The First Time
by Psychotic.Scam.Loves.Slash
Summary: There's a first time for everything. Slight Wincest and spoilers for Season 1 & 2. Deathfic. Angst and rambles ensue. Rating for implications and nasty words.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own this what so ever. I only rent. No sueing me.

**A/N: **This was a random, spur of the emo moment. I felt lost and I needed to feel... angry.

The first time Sammy saw a demon, he was nine. He had told his Dad that something was in the closet and he gave him a .45, and as any other nine year old, Sammy didn't have a clue what to do with it. John just said with a slight grin, and he remembers this like a blow to the head:

"Aim for right between the eyes and blow his brains out, son."

The first time Sammy killed a demon, was 20 minutes after said encounter with Dad. True to his father's words, he fulfilled his Dad's orders, and watched with a churning stomach as brain matter flew from the hole in its head and within a heartbeat. It laid motionless and drenching the nice pale carpet of his floor. He cried out with anguish, and it was Dean who was by his side, rubbing his back in the bathroom, his hand running soothing lines up and done the spine of his back, before switching to comforting circles as he regurgitated everything he had devoured that day.

The first time Sammy went hunting with his dad and Dean instead of staying in the hotel with his older brother, he was 13. It was a big nasty in South Carolina and Sammy froze in the midst of the exorcise, and put both his father and brother in jeopardy. In the end, daddy saved the day and the big nasty was gone, as well as Sammy's appetite. That night, when dad went out to the bar, he and Dean sat alone in the hotel room, dark and dingy, listening to the comforting sounds of each others' breathing patterns. That's when Sammy and Dean connected even more with each other.

The first time Sammy ("It's 'Sam',") got an erection, he was 16, and it was over his brother. He had shyly approached him, his feet shifting nervously as Dean gave him a look.

"What's wrong with you, Sammy?" He asked, and Sam glared at him, his eyes burning with irritancy.

"It's Sam," He growled, brushing his bangs from his face. Dean's face split with a growing smirk.

"Fine. What's wrong, Sam?" His voice had a playful hint to it, and Sam coughed nervously, his eyes averting to the dusty carpet of the hotel. Dean's face converted from playful to concern. He looked his brother over, and did a double take, before smirking. "Awh, is my wittle Sammy gwowin' up? Is Junwor come out to pway?" He baby-talked, and Sam's face flushed with a bright heat as he swore lightly. Dean had smiled and tackled him down, and one thing led to another, and he ended up whacking Sam off. They never spoke of it again.

The first time Sam had sex with a man, he was 23. Dean had come to him but 6 months ago, complaining about Dad being missing. Following the events of the shape shifter, Sam had never felt the connection any stronger then. He had confronted Dean, swore at him, told him he was in love with his fucking brother and how fucking right the damn shape shifter was right, and how bad their family was fucked up. There was a fight, curse words and violence, but in the end, they both realized it was what they wanted for a long time now, ever since that it reminded Sam of Brokeback Mountain and how un-fucking-natural it was.

The last time Sam and Dean had sex, they had fought immediately afterwards. Something about not being able to accept things and not being able to fucking accept that dad was dead and he wasn't ever coming back, not even with resurrection.

The last words Sam said to Dean was "I hate you." Dean was killed that night on the side of the rode by a demon hunting homosexuals, no matter the sex, and slaughtering them, slashing their throats open so they couldn't scream, gouging their eyes out so they couldn't see, cutting their ears off so they couldn't hear, and hacking their dicks off like it was John Bobbitt, or in case of a women, sowing it shut.

The last time Sam saw Dean, he was crying. They both were, actually, and neither had the guts to accept themselves or each other. Pain riddled them and they couldn't push past in fear of losing what they loved the most. And that's what he wrote on Dean's tombstone, which he still visits 10 years later, looking over the wind worn ivory colored marble. The words are etched in his mind,

**Dean Winchester**

Loving Brother

Loved Son

Forever he will be sorely missed

"A man who was afraid to push away the negatives in fear of losing the positive."

The last time Sam saw his family together, it was in the graveyard, three tombstones and he, alone with the fucking guilt he couldn't let go of because what he truly feared, was losing all memories of before.


End file.
